


Secret

by MemoryCrow



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Hurts So Good, Light Angst, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, M/M, Oral Sex, Power Play, SO SORRY, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-07 19:09:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8812687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MemoryCrow/pseuds/MemoryCrow
Summary: Pirates are a needy sort...





	

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know. I just don't know. Killian Jones must be submissive, and I'm not sure why this must be, but it must be. It's a weird and unlikely pairing I keep getting drawn to. I refer you to "Because of These Things" by She Wants Revenge, because I'm not a bad woman, I'm just overwhelmed. On Rumpel's behalf, I refer you to "End of All Days" by Thirty Seconds to Mars; I punish you with pleasure, and pleasure you with pain.

 

 

The secret was this: kisses that tasted like black honey, like the pulp of blood red roses and a bawdiness of burgundy wine and dark chocolate-covered cherries, oozing bloody syrup. The kisses also tasted of tobacco. And of sex. Nimble tongues sparked fire and dissolved into liquid bliss, and it was as quickly addictive as an opiate, speeding into the bloodstream. The kisses blocked out everything else, so that there was only the hushed and secret world.

 

　

Killian approached the counter where Rumpelstiltskin waited for a purchase to be rung up. The pirate just stood there... it was awkward and unusual, and Rumpelstiltskin felt overly aware of passers-by. They would see Killian, hunger naked on his face and arms hanging passively at his sides. Even with the menace of the hook, it was the wrong stance, the wrong posture... that Killian _waited_ was wrong.

Harsh, Rumpelstiltskin muttered, "What do you want, pirate?"

Both of them looked down, neither very comfortable with direct eye contact in public. But Killian's eyes rose... Rumpelstiltskin felt it and looked up as well.

"You _know_." Killian said, and it was a toss-up as to whether his voice growled or purred. His eyes were more clear. They begged.

It made Rumpelstiltskin glance about. It made him angry. The pirate knew better, knew his feelings on the matter. In spite of the startling intensity of blue eyes, he looked away. He said, "Not now."

 

　

The secret was the brutality that lived within him, and the way Killian could take it. He _wanted_ it. Sometimes it came to actual grappling, angry and full of force, and though Rumpelstiltskin was the smaller man, it felt so good. It felt, at times, like he'd been waiting, a wild thing in a cage, for release. He pitted himself against Killian's brute force, all shoulder and lithe muscle, and struggled. Muscles tensed and blood sang; power surged.

It was weirdly quiet fighting. Wrestling, really; no one was throwing punches, though he took some pleasure in slapping Killian's face, watching color bloom . It was a constant struggle for one to top the other, and it seemed the victor was only ever victorious for a moment. The tide always turned, bodies were flipped. Struggle, energy burning in bunched muscle resumed.

When Rumpelstiltskin was once more atop, Killian's arms pinned overhead, both of them in a snarl; he felt himself move into a grind. The brutality, the struggle turned so easily to lust, and it drove him. The strangeness of it, the almost horrible realization had driven him from the start.... and then there was the other part of it; _Killian_. Killian... _allowed_ it. Perhaps, in a pirate-like, sneaky, topping-from-the-bottom manner, he instigated it. To any moment that Rumpelstiltskin felt the surprise of wanting more, Killian's answer was to go still... to lock eyes. His lips parted and his heart hammered within the stillness. He _waited_. It seemed Killian was always waiting for him.

 

　

It did something wicked and savage to Rumpelstiltskin. The sight of Killian Jones, bound and helpless, should fill him with evil glee. It _did_ , sort of. It also seized his heart in a painful way, and surged heat through his blood. It woke his body and almost made him want to weep for longing. It was shocking, how beautiful Killian could look... the more so for blushes, bruises.

Rumpelstiltskin wasn't set up for this sort exchange. At home, in the Dark Castle, there were dungeons and chains and all sorts of questionable items at hand. None of it, then, was ever utilized for pleasure.

In Storybrooke, he bought rope. He mused over it in the store, hands holding a thick coil of rope and thumbs stroking along the weave. The absence of the pirate's hand might be a problem. He touched silk strands, woven in with other fibers, less harsh and abrasive than the jute and hemp he had in his basement. he couldn't quite form a picture in his mind as he felt the weave, eyes and mind going dark. He made the purchase without further thought.

 

　

Killian submitted to it, smirking, but passive as Rumpelstiltskin tied first one wrist, then the other... taking extra care where no hand anchored the arm. The pirate was naked and in a reclining posture of crucifixion. His arms were spread to the length of the headboard and secured, his body spanned the length of the bed. He was prettily displayed.

Rumpelstiltskin paced about the bed under Killian's watchful eyes. he took such pleasure in this; he couldn't account for it. Killian stark naked while he remained dressed, shirtsleeves rolled up. Killian bound while he was free, moving about. Stalking. Killian... hard and eager, flushed, when he'd only been touched in order to be secured to the bed. As always, he waited. The pirate's breath was shallow with waiting, his cock jumped with his heightened pulse.

"What will you do, Rumpel?" he asked, and Rumpelstiltskin couldn't help but flinch. His name on Killian's lips was still an alien thing. "What will you do, now you have me dead-bang?"

He smiled, giving a brow raise to Killian's wording. His name meant 'strife'. Rumpelstiltskin tasted the name in silence, and thought, _indeed_.

 

　

The secret was _penetration_. The way it could be more than pleasure... The way it could be a need. It wasn't an easy thing, this new game. It wasn't the playing with, the bedding of a woman, slick with arousal, ready. It took effort. Ritual. Even when steps were taken, there were panicky moments of pain, hesitation. Rumpelstiltskin found it to be part of the power play... part of the tumble and muscle, the tendency to resist and the desire to give in. He liked the ritual, the sense of preparing Killian that was part care and part humiliation. That Killian _wanted_ it so much, so badly, was a source of shame. The shame prickled at Rumpelstiltskin from the inside, like he'd swallowed angel hair, spun glass. He would bleed out, internal bleeding, anticipating.

He tormented Killian with his own want, his own shame, and it only made Killian harder. He had, at times, made the pirate cry. Not with pain... that only made Killian grit his teeth and snarl. He could take a lot. He made Killian cry with pleasure. He made his fingers, or sometimes an object, a toy, slippery and insistent. He _penetrated_ , and set a rhythm. In and out, slow and fast. He crooned Killian's helpless want back at him, almost mocking but _so_ aroused, himself. He sneered at Killian for the wanton motion of his hips, the way he rocked, he _fucked_ , trying to get more and more of the stimulation. He denied the hard, ruddy cock - a pretty, desperate, fulsome length, defined at the head - that bounced on Killian's belly, weeping. Enough of this, enough of, "Bloody hell, pirate. All of that bashful resistance, and now you've all but _swallowed_ this toy..."

Enough, and Killian might cry.

Add to that a hand gripped to his throat, another fisted in crow feather hair, pulling hard. Then he would come.

It dug into Rumpelstiltskin in ways he had never anticipated; in ways that were beyond private. They were secret. It set his teeth on edge. He'd never thought to fuck Killian, to partner him in that way... to penetrate with his cock... but then he _had_ to. All of the need coming off of Killian in hot waves... the tears that spilled from beneath closed, stressed eyelids, wet eyelashes so thick and dark. Mouth open, skin flushed and putting off heat. It was another painful squeeze on his heart, as seeing Killian bound. It played at his balls and wore away at his composure, so that he shed his clothes and was as naked as the orphaned, crow-boy, who _wanted_. Who was achingly empty, inside. Who wanted his holes filled.

He started with the mouth.... Killian's mouth was made to kiss... ruddy and full lips, the sensuality nearly hidden by dark scruff; given lie to by a cocksure expression, insinuating and sarcastic brows. Playful swagger... those white teeth...

It was easy to change that expression. Shockingly easy. A hand laid to the back of the pirate's neck, casual and in passing. Or even less than that... Rumpelstiltskin could let his gaze linger on Killian's mouth before raising it to meet the deep, blue eyes. Humor and play evaporated. Killian's eyes became frankly open; he all but drooled. His belly quivered.

Rumpelstiltskin half-stood, half-knelt on the bed, standing over his bound lover. For that's what it was, now. One hand braced to the wall behind the bed, his other held his cock, as fevered and aching as Killian's, and fed it to the pirate. _Gods_. Killian's upturned face, eyes closed. Rumpelstitlskin thrust, his hand coming to cup Killian's face, thumb moving to Killian's lips as he sucked, jaw stretched. "Yes, dearie." He breathed. "That's it, that's good."

Killian's eyes opened, and it blazed through Rumpelstiltskin. He held the deep gaze, hips moving back and forth, the sensation of the hot, wet mouth setting nerve endings afire. It was the hunger that was such a shock in Killian. It was so raw, and so endless. He didn't know when Killian would have ever had enough.

Even when he pulled from Killian's mouth... his eyes flashed, his open mouth sought. Bound limbs flexed and his breath came hard. _Fuck_. That heady cock, riding his furred belly, leaking helplessly. Rumpelstiltskin teased fingertips over full, heavy balls and beneath... Killian's hips never stopped rocking. It pleased Rumpelstiltskin to see him exposed... he directed Killian to keep his legs apart, feet high on the bed, level to his hips. Cock, balls, hole... all of it out and open, desire and raw need plain and undisguised. He lined himself to the sensitive hole he'd teased and slicked, getting Killian's legs onto his shoulders. It took a moment, a slow, insistent press and ease... but it happened. The give, the _swallow_. He watched himself disappear into Killian, and the visual cut into him almost more than sensation. It was like watching himself thrust into Killian's mouth... sensation was so enmeshed in what he saw, in power and in Killian's submission... it was difficult to say what affected him more.

He said what he said... He filled Killian's eyes with water, pleasure creating the onset of humiliation. Tears turned Killian's eyes an intense green. He slid deeper and deeper, inching his way in, holding tight to Killian's taut thighs. The squeeze at the entrance was so tight, he went a little blind. Killian was flushed at face, neck and chest; he moaned, mouth open. His tongue was a wet glisten behind white teeth. His body struggled with the rope binding him, and his cock repeatedly lifted from his belly and thumped back down.

Panting, he said, " _Fuck me... please, please fuck me_.."

A wave of pleasure, another flash of blindness took Rumpelstiltskin, moving though him. He gasped, and said, "You want me to?"

"Aye."

"You want it hard, dearie?"

" _Aye_!"

It wasn't hard to start. Rumpelstiltskin was dizzy, and needed to get his bearings. It was a slow slide, in and not quite out, Killian moaning and turning his head from side to side in frustration. Rumpelstiltskin gave the neglected cock a few strokes, making Killian gasp and flex his hips. He cupped Killian's balls and teased all around their connection.... he thought Killian might go mad. He was certain that _he_ would.

The drive became hard, as Killian wished. Fast. Killian cried out with each thrust, and Rumpelstiltksin clenched his jaw. He was on edge. He folded his body over Killian's, the thrusts short, jarring jabs. His mouth sought Killian's and then the lushness; the unreal, time-stopping luxury of the secret kiss began.

"Untie me." Killian whispered against his mouth.

He wouldn't have... he would have said 'no' if he'd been able. But he was too close. Killian's knees pressed back to his body, legs laying over Rumpelstiltskin's shoulders; it was a wild, wicked thing. His cock was gripped in the close, staccato pumping, his hands fisted in Killian's hair. In a spasm, moan lost in Rumpelstitlskin's mouth, Killian came. It was hard, a contracting, bearing down of muscle that made Killian's head arch back, his breath suspended before it rushed from his throat, guttural and loud. The convulsive, rhythmic squeeze on Rumpelstiltskin's cock brought him right after, and he bit his cry against Killian's neck. He bruised him, there, marking him. Lips and tongue met with a strangeness of stubble, nearly grown out to beard. It was sobering, and woke a resin scent of dragon's blood, sweet opium. It pulled him down into a purple-blackness, and it was some moments before he had the strength to move. He went back to the kiss; black honey, red roses. The scent of sex, musk was strong, Killian's spunk between their bodies, seething in heat and fur. His own seed was beginning to leak from Killian. Shuddering, he pulled himself up and away. Kiss broken, bodies parted, he released Killian from his binding.

That was all the strength he had. He lay on his belly and felt Killian's hand, a warm, soothing stroke, up and down his back... finally coming to settle in the hair at his nape.

 

　

That was the first time. The first, real time; more than play. More than power. In his power, Rumpelstitlskin hadn't asked permission, though Killian had seemed more than willing. Still, he wasn't sure where to go, now.

He busied himself in his shop, wondering. Then, not even a full day later, the pirate turned up. He looked different. He'd traded leather for dark denim. He wore a t-shirt, a faded, soft thing. It was long to his body and tight to his skin, and Rumpelstiltskin wondered what brought the change. Was he trying to display his body?

He was a little shocked by how young it made Killian look. He might have been any youth on the street, but for the odd note of the hook.

Approaching Rumpelstitlskin's counter, Killian gave off a feeling Rumpelstitlskin had come to recognize. He _waited_. His body was still, but his heart pounded beneath the t-shirt. His blood trembled in his veins. He raised his eyes, the shock of blue, to Rumpelstiltskin's.

The secret was the kiss.

　

　

THE END

　

 


End file.
